


Show Me More

by sherlockianfangirl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, im trash, lolol this is trash, lololololol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-23
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2018-09-01 18:19:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8633392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockianfangirl/pseuds/sherlockianfangirl
Summary: In which Sherlock asks (Y/n) how to "make out." He gets a demonstration, of course.





	

(Y/n) grabs Sherlock's hand and pulls him into his bedroom. Normally, Sherlock would protest against the unneeded physical contact, but he believes that this is part of the demonstration. After all, on those shows that John stubbornly calls "crap telly," the two lovers are always pulling each other into one room or another. They fuel themselves not by food or rest, but by that disgustingly mundane need to feel somebody else against them.

It's really disturbing, the thing he's about to do. Sherlock only asked (Y/n) for the demonstration so that he could get some menial understanding about what ordinary people take part in. He believes that a live demonstration will give him a lot more insight that some chick-lit vampire novel that all women read.

They're in the bedroom. (Y/n) lets go of his hand, and for a second his fingers trail after her. He quickly withdraws, praying that she doesn't notice. Judging by her expression, she didn't. That's good, and predictable. As smart as (Y/n) may be, she was never particularly observant.

"Sit on the bed," she commands, her voice both a firm order and a seductive purr. On the television, the lovers are much too engrossed in themselves for any verbal communication, although (Y/n)'s tone of voice seems to fit properly with the theme.

Sherlock takes a tentative sit at the edge of the bed.

Breaking out of her act for a brief show of frustration, (Y/n) sighs and puts her palm to her forehead. "Come _on_ Sherlock," she says, sounding tired, "I meant to sit on the bed, with the pillows supporting your back."

He's a bit embarrassed, upset with himself for showing such stupidity in front of (Y/n). He likes to impress her, to show off that _he's_ the most capable, the most intelligent, the most witty. But his current action was perhaps the most idiotic thing he's ever done in front of her. With his cheeks burning, he moves until he's in the position that she asked.

The next event comes as a massive surprise. (Y/n) climbs on top of the bed and sits as well, _right on top of Sherlock. She's straddling him._

"What-" he begins.

"Don't talk right now Sherlock," she whispers in his ear, her lips ghosting over his skin, "don't ruin it."

"(Y/n), I don't know where to put my hands," he stammers, thoroughly shocked inside and out. (Y/n) is straddling him. They're about to make out. It's terribly frightening that he wants this to happen.

"Put them wherever you like."

Hesitating, Sherlock places them on her back, shaking ever so slightly when he realizes that he can feel her skin through the fabric of her shirt.

"Oh, come on," she gives him a teasing smile, "that's no fun!"

"You and I have very different definitions of fun-"

She cuts him off with a kiss. Full on, _lips on lips._

Sherlock's world fades to a still. He no longer notices the shelf of dust on the table in the corner, the tiny tear on his Periodic Table Of Elements chart, or the small coffee stain on his bedsheet. The only thing his mind can focus on his (Y/n).

She's kissed him before, small pecks on the lips or cheek, but never like this. This feeling - it's completely unfamiliar.

He loves it.

When she pulls back to draw a breath, Sherlock feels himself reaching up, puling her back towards him, giving her a silent request as their lips lock again.

_"Show me more."_

 

**Author's Note:**

> this is trash I'm sorry. gtg gonna be in hell satan called.


End file.
